Grim Reaper's Journal
by TronaRi05
Summary: You don't see them much, but they're there. They are always watching over you, deciding on if you live or die. These creatures are Grim Reapers. Rated T just in case. The "new" Reapers are mine and my friends' OCs and the originals belong to Yana Toboso.
1. Mission Assigned

_Here at the Grim Reaper Dispatch Society we take care of the souls of those who have just passed on. Not only that, we judge them to see if they should or should not die. When we carry out our jobs we can never let our emotions get the best of us, or we will fail. Another important things about us Grim Reapers are the glasses. If you don't wear your glasses at all times, you are considered a traitor. Well, you'd need them anyway, considering how bad our eyesight's are. _

_I am James L. Moore. I have been working as a Grim Reaper for a few years. I guess you could say I'm still new. If you plan on working at the Grim Reaper Dispatch Society I hope you will read this before you decide on it. Trust me, it is a horrible job. Continue to read as I take you through my life as a Grim Reaper._

* * *

"James Moore to Mr. Spears's office. Morgan Dickens to Mr. Spears's office," said the woman over the intercom.

The two young Grim Reapers exchanged glances. Morgan, a Grim Reaper who appears to be fifteen with jet black hair and the plain green eyes ringed with gold, sighed. He looked down at his breakfast, "We're having pancakes today…"

James, a Grim Reaper seeming a year older with snowy white hair and the same pair of eyes, glared at Morgan, "What have you done this time?"

"Me? Why don't you ask yourself. I bet you offended your little _role-model_ somehow," Morgan rolled his eyes.

James pushed up his midnight blue glasses by the left side, "Well, why don't we go and find out?"

"But I want to eat my pancakes first!" Morgan complained.

"If we're late we won't have the stomach to hold them," James said, grabbing the collar of Morgan's shirt and dragging him off to William Spears's office.

"You my friend, have a point," Morgan twisted around and began to walk on his own.

* * *

The only sounds that echoed the empty hall were the footsteps of the two Reapers. James fiddled with the gears of his pistols.

"So, what do you think Old Man Spears wants with us?" Morgan asked, just to clear the emptiness.

"Old Man Spears? He's only a few hundred years older than us, smart mouth," James rolled his eyes.

"Oh I'm sorry. I must have offended you…Mr. William Number Two," Morgan said.

James kept his mouth shut, knowing if he spoke it would probably end up in a fight. After the slight silence, James spoke, "We're probably in trouble because you insisted on taking a break and we missed two of the souls we were suppose to collect."

"Well, if you're so good you wouldn't have let your little friend snatch it," Morgan rolled his eyes.

"I kindly ask you not clump me together with that filthy race and call us…_friends_," James spoke the word as if it were a curse, cringing as he said it.

"_Friends_. It's not a bad word, James," Morgan mocked.

"We don't need friends. We need partners," James rolled his eyes.

"Oh…look…we're here," Morgan said, stopping in his tracks as they approached the oak door with the golden plaque that had engraved in it "William T. Spears".

Morgan nudged the older boy and nodded toward the door, "I have a feeling he's going to throw something at us if I open it."

James let out a frustrated sigh and turned the bronze doorknob, almost jumping at how cold it was.

Inside, William was writing something with a large quill. He looked up, straightening his glasses, "Sit, please. Both of you."

Morgan whistled, "Nice place you got here, boss."

"Don't call me that," William grumbled.

James sat down nervously. Morgan took the chair beside him, landing in a loud _clack_.

William glared coldly at Morgan, then gave a side-glance to James, "Well, now that we're all here-"

"We?" Morgan asked.

William glared at him again. Morgan held up his hands in mock defeat.

"Yes," William hissed, "_we._"

"Gosh, Will. Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud. The kid just wants to have fun," said a cheerful voice in the shadows of the room.

"He's just a simple brat without a care…like you, Ronald," the flamboyant voice that could not be mistaken rang throughout the room.

"Oh god no," James moaned.

"What's with that disappointed reaction, kid?" Ronald Knox hung his arm around James's shoulder. "Don't like us seniors?"

"You're reaction is as sweet as Williams," Grell cooed, leaning against Morgan's chair.

"Ronald and Grell! What's with this reunion?" Morgan sat up, his attention suddenly directed on William.

James angrily brushed Ronald off and looked to William for an explanation.

"You four, or should I say us _five_, will be going on a-"

"Cruise together! Yes, a romantic cruise where we will-"

James's elbow drove into Grell's face, sending him flying back into the door, "Shut up, Mr. Sutcliff."

William, complete ignoring James's obvious displeasure, continued, "We are going on a mission. On a cruise. There seems to be…a mass disturbance."

"Come on man! I've been working overtime for…how long?" Morgan looked at James.

"Three months. Not really. Since you've been procrastinating, those three months could have been merely three weeks, but you let the work pile," James said.

"Well, think about it as a vacation. We will have to be on the look out for…special activities though," William said.

"Any other heads up before we dive into something life-threatening?" Ronald asked.

"Of course not. I wouldn't let my subordinates die," William said, his lips pressed in a thin line.

After a moment of silence William said, "You are dismissed. Go pack your things and meet me at the Gates tomorrow."

Grell smiled flirtatiously, but didn't say anything, exiting the room quietly. Ronald waited for Morgan to stand and together they went back to finish their breakfast. All but James stayed.

"What's really going to happen?" James asked, standing up, but having no intention of leaving before he had an answer.

"Nothing. Honest."

"Will there me a massacre?" James asked.

William flipped through his book, not answering.

"There will, won't there?" James said.

"What if there will be? Would you try to stop it by not going? That's not going to work, Moore. If we don't do our jobs, the demons will have a feast tomorrow. Our jobs is to collect souls and decide on where to send them, not let them be eaten by those wretches," William said, his eyes glowing behind his glasses.

James took a deep breath, "I understand. Sorry for my outburst sir."

"No…excuse me for mine," William stood and walked towards the door, "Now will you please?"

"Good day sir…" James left, his head hanging slightly.

* * *

_The life of a Grim Reaper-in all it's glory-is a lonely one. No matter what, even if you have _friends_ you are still alone. Be careful what you do to carry this burden as a _god_. _


	2. It was Stolen

James sat on the edge of the roof, polishing the pistols. He felt tired, like he had been working in this place for more than just a few years. His lunch sat next to him, untouched. He felt someone watching him from behind. The gaze pierced him and left a cold feeling in his heart.

"Edmond, what do you need?" James asked, over the howling of the wind.

"If you get pushed off the edge you'll end up in the mortal world," Edmond pointed out.

Edmond was James's senior by two years, he looked to be eighteen, his hair was a dark black color that seemed to be tinted blue. His eyes were golden, ringed green, which was quite an odd sight in that sort of world. His green glasses framed his eyes, the same eyes that bore deep into everyone's soul.

"I won't fall if you don't push me," James said, swinging his legs over the edge so it touched the ground. He stared at Edmond, "What do you want?"

"James, why are you so cold to me?" Edmond asked, sitting down next to him.

"Maybe because you betrayed me," James said, his voice flat and cold.

"I didn't betray you. Well, I didn't mean to. I told William it wasn't your fault afterwards, right?" Edmond placed his hand on James's shoulder.

James shrugged his former friend off and glared at him, "I'm sorry that I don't trust you, but I just can't. You blamed me for breaking the plates."

"I told you I'm sorry," Edmond mumbled.

"If you hadn't done that and if we had shared the blame, I wouldn't have been held back for two years," James's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I didn't mean to…you know what, forget it," Edmond sighed. "As for why I'm here…well, take these."

Edmond forced an object into James's hands and clasped them tightly, then let go. James stared at him, then looked down at his hands. He unclasped them and stared, "A pair of glasses?"

"Yup," Edmond nodded.

"Who's are these?" James asked. "Yours?"

"No," Edmond looked down at his hands.

"Then who's are they?" James asked, staring at the glasses, lenses cracked and parts missing.

"Well…something happened," Edmond said.

"Why don't you just tell me what happened instead of beating around the bush?" James threw his hand up in the air.

"During a mission, we got ambushed. Lawrence got attacked and…when we found him again, he was dead," Edmond said.

"What do you mean he was dead? We can't just die," James stared at him.

"It's not like he suddenly up and decided to die. There were wounds on his body. Like…well, are you finished with lunch?" Edmond ran a hand through his thick hair.

James looked down at his sandwich, he took a bite and finished his juice, then chomped down his apple. James stood up, "Yeah."

"Well, then, let's go to the morgue," Edmond sighed.

* * *

James and Edmond made their way down the roof. The bustle of the Dispatch Society really hitting them as they reached the office level.

"Somewhere you need to be in such a hurry?" Grell asked, leaning against the wall.

"The morgue," Edmond replied.

"The morgue? What for? That place is as empty as the hearts of Grim Reapers," Grell said.

"You're obviously not keeping track. Someone died," Edmond said as they swiftly moved past him.

Grell kept up the pace and started to walk next to them. James sighed, there was no way to get rid of this crazy red idiot.

"Someone died? Who?" Grell questioned, twirling his hair around his hands.

"Lawrence," Edmond replied shortly. He stopped and turned to glare at Grell, "Stop bothering us. We actually have work to do?"

Grell rolled his eyes, "Well I've never exactly seen the morgue. I'm just wondering how you, who has been working here for only a few years, knows where it is and I don't."

"Because I have people in the main branch who trusts me," Edmond grumbled.

They continued to walk, ignoring Grell's every complaint until they finally reached the morgue.

* * *

"Oh this Lawrence, I thought you meant Pops," Grell said, breathing in a breath of relief.

James rolled his eyes, "It was obviously the one who collects souls, idiot."

Grell mumbled something under his breath, but didn't say anything audible for the rest of the time.

"Look, right here," Edmond pulled back the cloth to reveal Lawrence's chest wound.

It was deep, a sword wound from front to back. A purplish color was starting to form around the wound, veins were clearly visible as well.

"We cleaned the wound, but…" Edmond's voice trailed off as he stared at the horrible gash.

James went ahead and pulled himself some rubber gloves and put them on. He touched the wound and felt around it. It was colder than any spot on the body.

"That's strange," James mumbled.

"Right?" Edmond said before James could explain what he found strange.

James felt it again. The wound felt as hard as stone, while the rest of the body was normal skin.

"I'm going to gag," Grell said, seeing the obvious difference between the two textures.

"Any idea how he got stabbed like this?" James asked.

James looked up at Edmond and stared into those dark golden eyes.

"The thing is…when Claude Faustus died, we took the demon sword," Edmond said.

"Right?"

"And…it's missing," Edmond said.


	3. The Silver Man

James slept, but fitfully. He couldn't take his mind off the fact that _the_ Demon Sword was missing. It's sheath, Hannah, had abandoned it after she had turned Ciel Phantomhive into a demon. The Grim Reapers had taken an extremely long time to extract it from Demon's Isle and take it back to the Dispatch Society and now it was _missing_? Who was the idiot that let that happen?

James thought back to a few months back. Morgan had broken an important vase and he had said that he was trying to get a demon that had broken in. If that demon had somehow been able to sneak past the guards then it would have set the alarms off. Guards. _Guard,_ more like. Morgan had been the only one on guard.

A knock came from outside his bedroom door around one in the morning. James sat up and reached for his glasses, then he slipped out of his bed and opened the door.

"Morgan," James said.

Morgan, eyes downcast, looked strange without his glasses. Thinking back on it, no Reaper had seen his colleague without their glasses before and here was Morgan.

"What's wrong Morgan?" James asked, not really concerned about him but just wanting to get back to sleep.

"…I heard about the Lawrence incident," Morgan said.

"Uh-huh?" James said.

"Was it my fault?" Morgan asked.

James took off his glasses and rubbed his temples, "Are you kidding? Why are you acting guilty now? It's Lawrence's fault for not having run fast enough or killed the damn thing."

"But-"

"Why are you acting worried now? You broke the vase, which is an entirely different story that we haven't even told William yet, and you broke the wall, but when a Reaper dies you feel _bad_? That it's your _responsibility_?" James glared at him. "We don't even know for sure if Lawrence was killed by that bloody sword. If it was, then sure, blame yourself. Until we find out who and why they killed Lawrence it's not your fault."

Morgan stood still and silent.

"Go back to sleep, man. I'm tired and we're going on a long mission tomorrow. Keep that heart of yours hollow," James said, closing the door.

"James?"

"Yeah?" James stood mid-way.

"Night."

"Yeah. Night." James closed the door and took off his glasses, slowly making his way back under his covers.

_Not _good_night. Just _night. _That's all there is to it_, James thought as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"HEY JAMES WAKE UP!" came the obnoxious voice of, Ronald Knox.

"JAMES GET YOUR LAZY BUM OUT OF YOUR BED!" Morgan chimed it, banging on the door.

James breathed in deeply and sat up. He grabbed his glasses and pulled the door open.

William, Grell, Ronald, and Morgan stood at his bedroom door, refreshed and ready to go.

"Was this really necessary?" James grumbled.

"Yes. You were late," William said

"I'm not late," James said, looking at the clock, "It's only six."

"You're correct, but you don't wake up easily," he said.

James mumbled something impolite and went to get dressed. He came back in a plain suit and a hanging next to his side.

The four Reapers made their way down to the platform, where they would be taken to the mortal world.

"Hey, Eliza, how are _you_ today?" Ronald winked at the young Reaper.

"Just ignore him," James advised, showing the girl his ID.

The girl had brown hair, pulled back in a pony tail. She pushed her glasses up and smiled, "It's fine. I like talking to Ronald."

"Morgan, hurry…where is Morgan?" James looked around.

Grell chuckled as he showed Eliza his ID, "I bet he went off flirting with some girl again."

"Oh, the idiotic youth," William mumbled.

"Like you don't-"

William cut off Ronald's statement by sending him a sharp glare. Morgan showed up, just before the portal was about to go.

"I'm here, I'm here," Morgan waved his ID in front of Eliza's face.

James glared at Morgan, "You're an idiot, you know that?"

Morgan just nodded and together, the portal took them to the place of sins.

* * *

"You're ridiculous, Will. Do you think no one would notice us if four guys go on the same cruise at the same time at once?" Morgan asked, pulling his luggage. "On top of that, the three of you have suits."

Morgan looked at Grell, "I don't think yours counts."

"Well, congrats on being able to act like a peasant," James mumbled, "Good luck boarding the cruise."

"Peasant? Gosh James, how does this quality of clothes look like a…I smell something," Morgan stopped.

William and the others stopped in their tracks. As the wind picked up, the faint scent of whatever had been there disappeared.

"What was it?" James questioned.

"I don't know! I'm not very good with this scent stuff. It was just really close to where I was standing," Morgan rolled his eyes.

"Well, we'll find out," William mumbled. "Come on, hurry up."

They hurriedly boarded the cruise, then made their way to their rooms.

"Morgan and James will share a room and me and Ronald will share a room," William explained.

"What about _me_?!" Grell asked.

They stared at him. After a slight pause James adjusted his glasses and said, "Do you really think we trust you sleeping with us?"

Grell huffed, "Well, _fine_ then! I'll sleep alone, in that cold room. It's not my fault if you don't find me in the morning. I'd probably have gotten kidnapped!"

Grell snatched the key and stomped away towards his room, "I'm going scouting around the boat later also. Don't bother looking for me!"

"Wouldn't even have thought about it," Ronald mumbled.

"In the meantime, I guess we'll split up into groups," William said. "As much as I'd rather go with James…I'll go with Morgan this time so James can breath. Ronald, you go with James."

"Alright, alright," Ronald said. He placed his hand on James's shoulder, "First, let's check out those fancy parties. I bet there is something there. If not, there are ladies."

James said nothing, but rolled his eyes. Not fond of neither Ronald nor Morgan, but was glad that he wasn't stuck with someone in his own ranking.

"Come on, Green-bean!" Ronald said excitedly and then steered James off.

Morgan groaned, "Aw man! I wanted to go with Ron!"

"Too bad," William said. "Come on, we're going to the deck."

* * *

Ronald roamed the room, smiling and giving small talk with some girls here and there. James followed behind quietly, blending in nicely but not talking. Eventually, James had lost track of Ronald and he stood near the door, ready to go if duty called.

"Excuse me," came a voice as smooth as silk.

James's head snapped up, his hands in his jacket where his pistols were concealed while on board the ship. It was a woman. Or at least he thought it was a woman.

The man had long hair-long white hair, much like James's-pulled back in a ponytail by a black ribbon. His eyes were a strange blue, staring into the depths of James's soul. He wore a white tailored suit with a red rose tucked in his pocket, a white top hat rest on his head. His glasses were rounded, framing his eyes, but it was obvious that he didn't need them.

"Do you know where the bathroom is?" he asked.

James looked around, making sure he was the one being spoken to, "Not sure. Maybe you should ask the staff?"

"What staff?" the man spread his arms apart.

James looked around, it was still. Not that type of still that happened right after a song ended, but the type of still that froze time. No one moved. Not an inch. None of them were breathing. James stood up, glaring at the man, "Who are you?"

"Me?" he chuckled, "I am merely a humble tutor. Would you mind helping me look for my mistress?"

James didn't move. His hand clasped the handle of the silver frame. What was with this guy? He actual froze _time_. That wasn't right. Was he a demon? An angel? The only one who could do that would be a Grim Reaper and with the Bookmark.

"Now, now. Don't be too wary. It's not very good for you health," the man said.

"Who are you?" James repeated. "Your name, I mean."

"What was the name my mistress gave me again…ah, yes," he smiled, revealing white fangs. "Nickolas Lunar, at your service. You are…James, correct? I overheard your conversation earlier."

James examined the man from head to toe. No matter how you looked at it, he couldn't have been the one that triggered Morgan's senses. James couldn't smell a _thing_ on this guy and with Morgan's dull sense of smell, he shouldn't possibly have picked up anything while the older Reapers hadn't.

"Nickolas Lunar," James said.

Nickolas's ears perked, "Oh my. Playtime seems to be over. It seems my mistress is calling. Goodbye, shall we meet again?"

Before James could respond, the world seem to spin. When James's five senses returned to him, music had picked up again and Nickolas was nowhere to be seen.


End file.
